


Fireworks

by gwencampbell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deamus, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:24:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwencampbell/pseuds/gwencampbell
Summary: Dean is drunk and sad and in love.Seamus is drunk and stupid and in love.Can firewhiskey get these two crazy kids together?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy little Deamus fic for ya. Special thanks to George for writing the first paragraph and letting me run with it!

Dean was going mad, he was certain he was going entirely raging mad. He was propped up in a chair in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, some firewhiskey in his system, and he found his eyes drawn again and again towards Seamus. Seamus, who had loosened his tie about an hour ago. Seamus, who had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Seamus, who had rolled up his sleeves, comfortable with his burn scars now that everyone else had gone to bed and only the two of them and the silver trio remained. Seamus, who was laughing at something Neville had said, something that Dean hadn’t been able to pick up on because his mind was so filled with Seamus. 

He was mad, positively insane. All he wanted to do was to retire to bed and shove his hand down his pants with his mind filled with Seamus… Such a delicate sin, to think of one’s best friend in that way. On top of it all, a male best friend. 

He was snapped out of his train of thoughts by Ginny waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oi, Dean, you alright?”. 

He flashed a forced grin “yeah, I’m just getting tired” he lied.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. She knew Dean too well to buy that half-assed smile and that awful lie. She sat down on the armrest of the chair and brushed her hair away from his face to look at his friend carefully. He was flushed, a light blush covering his dark cheeks. And he kept looking at... Ah. She smirked. 

"I see," she said, her voice soft. She returned to her former spot next to Neville, not wanting to overwhelm Dean. 

Seamus looked at her when she returned and offered her a grin. "Do you have more firewhiskey?" 

"Nope, ask your best friend over there. I think he wants the bottle all to himself, though," she teased. 

Seamus tilted his head back to look at his friend, and laughed at the upside-down vision. Maybe he didn't need more firewhiskey after all. "Care to share some with me?"

Dean shut his eyes as her fingers swept across his skin, flinching away from her touch. He was glad when she left, he didn't want Seamus thinking they were back together. Or maybe he did; it would probably help to cover his crush. A 'beard', he remembered the term being. 

He took another swig from the bottle in his lap, sputtering as Seamus spoke to him. He had forgotten he was there with all of them, the soft glow of the firelight making the room feel like a dream. "Y-yeah. Of course." He replied, holding out the bottle to Seamus. "You might want to sit up though.." He chuckled, Seamus's hair looking rather funny when pulled down (up?) by gravity. Dean wondered if gravity could come from a person, not just a planet. Perhaps that would explain why he felt pulled to Seamus. Gravity. No, that didn't make any sense. 

He really needed to lay off the firewhiskey.

Seamus' grin only became bigger when he heard Dean's positive reply. He rushed to stand up, which on second thought, hadn't been such a good idea. He leaned against the wall as the room began spinning, only letting go when everything came back in place. He laughed again. Everything seemed so much better now that they were all together, that they didn't have to think about You-Know-Who. He was elated to be with his friends, to be with Dean and to be able to drink as much as he wanted. 

"We should move to the couch, it's comfier," he told him, taking the bottle from his hand. He leaned against the chair Dean was sitting on and took a long gulp, making a small groan when the burning sensation came. 

"I love this shit," he said, handing him back the bottle. "But you know what I love him more? Drinking with you."

Dean smiled sadly, his heart on the verge of exploding. It seemed only right that the pyrokinetic would do that to him- set his heart on fire. 

"I love drinking with you too." He muttered, standing and walking wobbly to sit on the couch. He plopped down next to seamus, pulling his hands into his lap so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out and touch Seamus's mess of a haircut, hold his warm hands, caress his soft cheek. 

Dean shook these thoughts from his head- they always led to bad things. Slip-ups, almost declaring his love for Seamus in front of the entire great hall. 

He stole the bottle back and took another long drink, trying to wash away his feelings. But in a fashion reminiscent of the last four years, it didn't work. At all. 

"And I love you." He whispered inaudibly into the bottle, though it was Seamus and not the firewhiskey which he was speaking about.

Seamus watched Dean, how the flames of the fireplace made his features sharper. His eyes even warmer than they already were. He had hit the jackpot when he had met Dean back in their first year at Hogwarts. He didn't think he would ever find someone who understood him like he did. 

"It sounds like you love that bottle more than you love me," he joked, letting out a soft chuckle. He undid his tie and threw it to the other side of the couch, resting his head on the back pillows and closing his eyes. He was so comfortable like that that he could easily fall asleep.

Dean glanced over at Seamus, blinking back a tear. Why was he crying? He wasn't sure himself, actually. It was all he wanted to do lately, just sit in a corner and cry, maybe draw a few pictures of Seamus. His one and only muse. He had a miniature sketchbook, always in his pocket, filled with drawing of Seamus. Seamus eating, Seamus studying, talking to Neville and throwing popcorn at Dean during a truly terrible movie. 

"Never." He muttered, his fingers twitching over the sketchbook. Seamus looked so beautiful, the fire casting shadows over his hooded eyes. But he didn't take the book out. He hadn't told Seamus. It bordered stalker territory, to be sure. But Dean couldn't find anything else that captivated him so much. He had no joy greater than drawing each and every freckle. 

Dean smiled to himself, forcing himself to look away. He wanted to do something stupid. Wanted to kiss Seamus, wanted to run his hands through his hair, trace every outline of his face. But he couldn't. His brain knew that. If only he could make his heart understand.

Seamus could have easily fallen asleep like that, with the warmth radiating from both the fireplace and Dean warming him. 

But it was the soft, almost imperceptible word that came out of Dean's lips what made him open his eyes. It took him a while to notice the tears running down his best friend's cheeks, but when he did, he was leaning forward, hands moving to Dean's arm to pull him closer. 

"Shit, Dean. What's wrong?" He was loud, as he always was when he was drunk, and Ginny looked at them with her eyebrows furrowed. 

Neville had fallen asleep, just like Luna, and maybe it was time for all of them to leave the guys alone. She gently shook Luna, who mumbled something about Nargles before following her to the girls dormitory. Neville followed soon after, only shooting Dean and Seamus a brief glance before returning to his dormitory with a yawn.

Dean stared into his lap as their friends filed out of the room. He had tried so hard not to let Seamus see anything was wrong, but now that he had noticed, the floodgates were open. His slow tears turned quickly into sobs, and he buried his face in the crook of Seamus's neck, his body shaking as tears streamed down onto Seamus. 

"I'm sorry.." He said through the sobs, pulling away from his friend after a moment. His best friend. He didn't want to ruin what they had, but he didn't think he could keep his feelings locked up much longer. 

He glanced to where the firewhiskey had been only a few minutes before, upset that it was gone. He needed to be drunker if he was going to stop himself from telling Seamus. "I'm so sorry.."

Seamus frowned, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his best friend. Dean shook in his arms and sobbed, his tears dampening his shirt. 

 

He had only seen him cry like that once before, after the battle of Hogwarts. And he hated seeing him like that. 

"Why are you apologising?" He asked. Even if Dean had pulled away, their legs were still touching and Seamus' hands were hovering near his friend's arms, wanting to comfort him but not knowing why. He shouldn't have taken that last swig of firewhiskey. "You haven't done anything wrong. At least not to me."

Dean dragged the heel of his hand over his eyes, sniffling to no end. He was trying to quit crying so he could tell Seamus what was going on. Or rather, tell Seamus something made up to cover his crush. 

His hand dipped into his pocket and pulled out the sketchbook, and before he could realize what he was doing, it was in Seamus's hands. 

"I.. I don't.. I don't know why I handed that to you." He held his hand out, excpecting his friend to give it back. He hoped to god he wouldn't open it. The drawings were oftentimes accompanied with doodled hearts and one godforsaken page where Dean had scribbled 'Mr. Dean Finnigan' over and over again. Why had he given it to him? God, he couldnt believe himself. Of all the stupid things..

"Is this a sketchbook?" Seamus asked, glancing at the small book in his hand. He had seen Dean's beautiful drawings, and he had complimented them more than once. But he had never seen that small sketchbook before, he was sure he would remember it. 

Curiosity got the best of him and he opened it, and he found himself in the paper. His face was carfully drawn, his freckles, his smile, the shine in his eyes. His messy hair. He turned the page. There he was again, only this time he was frowning, trying to work on what he assumed was some kind of task. Drawings of him filled the sketchbook, with little hearts and... He blushed furiously. 

He opened it. Oh no, he had opened it. Dean watched his hands carefully, the delicate fingers turning through each page. He saw the sketches he had done years ago, the more recent pages with more hearts and more emotion each page. More love poured in to each page. Dean looked away as Seamus caught his eye, wringing his hands together.

"Dean..." Seamus looked up at his friend, at his tear stained cheeks. Was it possible that he liked him? This didn't look like a prank and Dean wasn't like that. He would never do something like that. "Is this why you're crying?"

"I'm sorry.." Dean repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "I'm so sorry Sea. I've tried not to.. But I can't help it. You're just so.." He couldn't find the words. 

He looked back at Seamus, a small smile flashing across his lips. "You're so perfect, to be honest. And I can't hide it anymore. Four years is too long to hide something so strong." 

He wasn't apologetic anymore, a great weight lifted from his chest. He wiped his tears away one last time, the cool droplets no longer running down his face. For the first time in four years, he could breathe.

Four years. Dean had liked him for four years. And he had been oblivious to it all. How stupid could he be? 

"Don't apologize," he insisted, closing the sketchbook and looking at him. He was no longer crying, but now it was him the one who felt his eyes burn, tears threatening to spill. He rubbed his eyes furiously and looked away. "I'm so bloody /stupid/," he mumbled, running a hand through his already messy hair. 

He smiled at Seamus's travesty that he called a hairstyle, bringing his hands up to fix it best he could. He realized after a moment that Seamus now knew how he felt, and he pulled his hands away from his hair. All the little things he used to do would only be awkward now. Sharing a bottle of firewhiskey, fixing his hair or tie, helping him with a gentle hand when he burned himself badly. This was going to ruin everything, he realized.

"Fuck, Dean. I've made you cry because of this and I'm so fucking stupid." He looked up at him, eyes red. He was so angry at himself for not noticing but, at the same time, he was so incredibly relieved. "You don't have to apologise for this. If there's anyone who has to apologise here, it's me."

Dean cocked his head to the side, his eyes running over Seamus's face. "You? What do you have to apologize for?" 

Seamus reached out for Dean's hand and brought it back to his hair. "For this," he said, "For not noticing. For being oblivious, for hurting you because of that," he said, the alcohol only making him talk faster than he usually did. "Because if I had noticed, you wouldn't have been feeling like you were betraying me for years, Dean. I know you. I know you must have been blaming yourself for this and fuck that, you can't control your feelings. I sure have tried," he said, his voice turning softer as he spoke. 

"Do you know... Do you know why I was so distant when you dated Ginny? I always told you it was because of everything that happened, but that was a lie. I told myself the feelings would go away if I ignore them but you can't really stop loving someone just out of sheer will... can you?"

Dean played with Seamus's hair as he spoke, taking a few moments to fully process what was happening. The fast speech mixed with his firewhiskey-bogged brain made him slow, and it took a few moments of agonizing silence to realize what that must mean. 

He broke into a wide smile, his hands running down Seamus's arms to clasp his hands tightly. "Do you mean.. Does this mean that you..?" He choked up, unexplainably happy. 

"I love you." He muttered, pressing his lips against Seamus's. And just as before, his heart was on the verge of exploding. Only this time, he was not filled with fear and apprehension, but a love so inexplicable that he wasn't sure he could ever lay it out in words. But this kiss? Yeah, that seemed to explain it pretty well.

Dean's kiss was just like his drawings. Full of emotion, of love. It overwhelmed Seamus, made his heart beat like crazy against his ribcage. But all he could think about how good Dean's lips felt, how they seemed to fit against his. He let out a sigh, his fingers clutching Dean's shirt as he pulled him closer. He needed to deepen that kiss, to be closer to the boy he had loved in silence since their friendship had started to bloom. 

He didn't want to ever stop kissing him, but his experience was limited and he soon had to pull back to breathe. "I'm so sorry. We could have been doing this for years," he whispered, resting his forehead against Dean's. "I'm so stupid."

Dean closed his eyes as Seamus broke away, sad that it had to be over, so, so happy that it had even begun. "It's okay. I'm sure 13-year-old us wouldn't have been so great at kissing." He laughed, amused by the thought of them being together when they were so childish. Not that they weren't still childish, of course. Dean ran his thumb over Seamus's cheek, opening his eyes to look into the amber irises staring back at him. 

"You are so beautiful." He told him, his thumb falling over every freckle in turn. "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that." He admitted, insanely happy to be sitting here with him, to be so close and so vulnerable. It seemed perfect.

Seamus blushed, his face easily warming up at the compliment. He was not used to people calling him beautiful, but Dean was so genuine that it was hard to hold back a smile. So he didn't. 

"Look who's talking. You are bloody gorgeous." 

He leaned into the touch, unable to look away from Dean's grin. He looked so happy, so different from the crying mess he had been just a few minutes ago. Seamus decided that he would do anything that was in his hand to keep him smiling.

"I wish I could draw like you. Then I would be able to draw you."

Dean shook his head, tutting. "My muse, my naive little muse." He teased, pulling Seamus in closer. 

"If you were drawing me, who would draw you?" He asked jokingly, nuzzling his nose against the other boy's. He was so happy. His mind was filled with roses, his heart with a song that he realized he had been hearing since he had met Seamus. It was strong now, ringing in his ears as if it were really being played. He swayed softly, forgetting that the music was inside him. He probably looked like a crazy person, but he didn't care. He was with Seamus. He didn't care about anything else.

Seamus laughed, his chest bubbling up with happiness. It was as if the happiness he felt being with Dean had been increased a million times and it was lighting up a fire inside him. He wouldn't be surprised if his hair caught on fire. 

"You could draw me drawing you," he suggested, letting Dean move him carefully as they both swayed together. He smiled, his hands still on Dean's chest, and allowed himself to close his eyes.

"You feel like fireworks, Dean."

"I do?"

"Yeah. The first pyrotechnics that are your fault and not mine!"

"I'm pretty sure these are at least partially your fault."

Dean didn't get an argument like he would have the day before. Just more kisses. Just more fireworks.


End file.
